Chapter 130 A Desperate Search
Chapter 130 A Desperate Search
Three days. For three days, Lysander had not slept.
He searched for Lyla wherever his instincts led him. He visited every corner of Arthoria—the parks where they used to walk, the small cafes Lyla loved, even the rooftop of the Luminous Tower where they once enjoyed the city view. Nothing.
He returned to Atheria, hoping Lyla might have decided to return to the place where the eggs were kept. But Elara only shook her head, her eyes brimming with worry. Kronos frowned but didn't dare ask.
He flew to Silverwood, to the lake where they had first met. The water was calm, cold, and silent. There was no blue-gold light upon its surface. No Lyla.
He combed the eastern coast, where their ship had once docked on the way to the egg island. He explored underground caves, screaming Lyla’s name until his voice went hoarse.
But the universe did not answer.
The dragons began to worry. Not only because their queen was missing, but because their king was beginning to change. The Lysander who was once calm and calculated had become a figure prone to anger, easily frustrated, and difficult to approach.
"Your Majesty," Kronos ventured, as Lysander sat at the edge of the valley with a vacant stare, "perhaps the Queen just needs time. Perhaps—"
"You don't understand, Kronos." Lysander’s voice was raspy, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. "I feel it. Through our bond, I feel that she... she is not alright. But I don’t know where she is. I cannot reach her. It’s as if there is a wall between us."
Kronos fell silent. This was worse than he had imagined. A soul-bond shouldn't be able to be blocked. If Lyla was intentionally shutting him out, it meant she truly did not want to be found.
"There is one place Your Majesty has not yet tried," Kronos said softly.
Lysander turned. "Where?"
"The ruins of the ancient city. The place where Mordred and his followers hide. Perhaps... perhaps the Queen went there."
Lysander's brow furrowed. "Why would she—"
"We don’t know what is in her mind, Your Majesty. But if she is seeking answers, perhaps she went to the source of the questions themselves."
Lysander stood up. His body was weary, but his resolve was burning. "Give me the coordinates."
"I will lead Your Majesty there. But I must warn you—that place is extremely dangerous. If Mordred is indeed there, and if the Queen is there as well..."
"I know." Lysander clenched his fists. "I don't care. I will get her back, no matter the risk."
Kronos nodded, then walked toward the west, piercing through the thick mist that shrouded the mountain slopes. Lysander followed him, his eyes glowing with a fire that would not be extinguished until he found Lyla.
In his heart, one question spun relentlessly.
"Why did you leave, Lyla? Why didn't you trust me?"
But he didn't dare say it out loud. For he feared the answer would destroy him.
In the ruins of the ancient city, deep underground, Lyla sat on a dark stone altar. Before her stood Mordred with a thin smile, his pale blue eyes watching her with a sense of triumph.
"Look," he whispered. "He comes searching for you. But does he come out of love, or out of fear of losing a queen who is useful to his clan?"
Lyla did not answer. But in her chest, the Blazing Tides pulsed unstably.
She knew Lysander was coming. But she wasn't ready to meet him. Not ready to return. Not ready to decide whether she would go home... or stay forever in a place where no one demanded her to always be strong.